What Rocket Scientists Want
by Verve
Summary: What Women Want BG&R Style!! Dwayne is out during a storm and gets whacked by lighting, fun times ensue! (rating for some strong language and romantic themes)
1. Shocker

Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin. Non' o' deese characters is mine, exceptin' fer da one's I made up in me own little head. If dey was mine I whoulddnit be writin dis and be a very happy lil' gurl, that I would.   
Well, here is is in most of it's glory, got inspired after watchinf oh-so-cute Mel Brook dance around in control top Pantyhose*drool* Thought of oh so yummy Dwayne and how he would fit the same role perfectly and viola! This ficcy was born...  
Word out to the Awesome Maureen and all of the beautiful peeps at her board ^_^ K, on with the show...  
  
***What Rocket Scientists Want***  
  
"No Darlene, I haven't been out lately." Dwayne paused to listen to the midwestern lilt of his sister's voice from the other end of the line. He chuckled lightly at her concern before responding. "Listen, I'm fine. Being chief mechanic requires a lot of my time and that's fine by me." The voice on the other end quickly inserted a comment. "No, I don't even think I have a biological clock. Listen, little Ms. Nosey," Dwayne teased; Darlene quickly chattered something at him and he responded. "No, nosey is not another way to say 'concerned.' I'm okay; I'm not lonely as you think I am. Besides," Dwayne added slyly as a fellow crewmember walked by. "Jo is all the woman I need around here." Jo cocked an eyebrow at him warily.  
  
"Sure," Mack slide into the room where Dwayne was on the phone as well, "Jo can handle everything until you want the cooking, cleaning, sewing or any of that womanly stuff done."  
  
"I didn't know I was taking over your duties, Mack." Jo snapped back, huffing down into the chair next to Dwayne.  
  
"Say hello to Jeffy for me, and let him know he's got a package in the mail. Okay…okay. I will. Talk to you later sis. Bye." The phone clicked down onto the receiver and the entire room focused on Dwayne.  
  
"So what was that all about?" Jo threw her feet leisurely up onto a nearby table and procured an apple out of her pocket. "Another lecture from the adopt-a-mom about wearing your long underwear, since she knows how drafty navy ships can get?" The lieutenant pulled himself out of his thoughts to smile at her.  
  
"No, not this time."   
  
"I bet the nagging de jour was about how our Lieutenant here hasn't got himself hitched yet." Mack's tone was crass, but teasing as he shuffled through several cabinets in search of food. "Chicks are always worried about that."  
  
"Eh," Jo regarded the greasy man with a wary eye, "Dwayne doesn't need a woman in his life to make it complete. Besides if he really gets desperate there's always me." She took a large bite out of her apple and grinned widely at Dwayne, bits of apple between her teeth.  
  
"Attractive." Dwayne said flatly, but then smiled. "No offense Jo, but I just don't see us working out… now you and Mack on the other hand…" Pots clattered to the floor as apple chunks were spewed across the room.  
  
"What!?!" They're protests were almost simultaneous, as well as the disgusted looks on their faces. Dwayne was rolling with laughter.  
  
"Oh yeah!" She tried to recover, grasping at straws. "What about you and the doc, huh?" Unfortunately, he was hardly fazed.  
  
"The Doc just isn't my type." Dwayne shrugged and took a deep breath. His sides ached from laughing.   
  
"Oh yeah, what is your type?" Jo challenged. Mack found a seat at the table with a bag of pork rinds.  
  
"That's easy," Mack said before Dwayne had a moment to consider the question, grinning through a mouthful of chips. "Fifteen feet tall, all curves and a full bodied ten tons of titanium."  
  
***  
Later that night Dwayne lay in bed, in the darkness. His breathe was slow and he had his eyes closed in thought; his mind wide awake. Jo challenge about what "his type" was kept turning in his mind. He'd had a few steady girlfriends in his life, but nothing serious enough to warrant a favorite among them. One had be a tall brunette, who was thin but athletic; the fastest girl on Neutronic High's track team. He had taken her to prom, and they spent the entire night out on the town, only to watch the sunset in the morning.  
  
Then there had been Lisa, in college. She was an artsy girl who thought that Allen Ginsberg was God, and had a panache for editing his term papers. Shorter, hippy, with thick red lips and blue eyes, curling short red hair; she was a great kisser. Dwayne smiled sleepily. There had been a handle full more between them, each one ending eventually, but being interesting while the lasted. Like snowflakes, each different, but none really having that spark he thought that real love was supposed to have. His brow furrowed slightly. Not that he was a corny romantic or anything.   
  
In the end he just didn't get women, what made them tick. Lisa had been his last girl friend, and since then he found himself distancing himself more and more from the opposite gender. So many relationships that ended, most of them for reasons that he still couldn't understand, by women who seemed to be speaking a different language entirely. They were an enigma he couldn't seem to grasp. Each one so different, and yet each relationship felt so much the same. It felt like there was something he was missing, something vague and yet very obvious.   
  
He quickly chided himself for being thinking too much into the matter and shoved it aside, in favor of a full night of sleep. He turned over, pulling the blanket tightly over him, though the cabin wasn't cold.   
  
Within minutes the cabin began to rock and sway. Dwayne hardly noticed it until the motions became almost violent, books falling from their shelves along with family photographs. If one hadn't smacked Dwayne directly on the head he may never have noticed the Big Guy signal beeping urgently on the floor where it had slid beneath a pile of dirty laundry.  
  
"It was a dark and stormy night…" he mumbled to himself, assuming from the bucking room around him that that was indeed the case. Quickly, he through a gray cotton robe over his white tank and loose sweat pants. His bare feet where cold and clicked slightly against the corridor floors as he swept down the various hallways. In his mind he quickly calculated the quickest way to the BGY hangar, and took a sharp left turn.   
  
However, in the haze of half sleep Dwayne realized too late that it was actually a right that he should have made, and found himself unwittingly on the main deck in a freezing wind that slashed across his face. He hugged his robe tightly to his body and squinted his eyes into the violent darkness all around him. He tried to make a slow step forward, but stumbled, falling on his chin. He could taste the bitter copper of blood in his mouth.  
  
"Point one for the storm." He grumbled, cautiously pushing himself up. Taking a quick survey of his surrounds Dwayne found himself much farther from safety than he liked. He could feel his shirt begin to stick to his body with wetness, his hair plastered against his forehead. Desperation was the last thing he felt as, in a flash of brightness, his world went black. 


	2. In Your Dreams

Well, lets see how this goes. I'm trying to upload this chapter using word. I'm not excited about it, but I thought I'd give it a try. Well, at least I know that the thoughts  
  
Are either in italics or atleast have the html tags around them ^_^ Well just have to wait and see. It gets funny this chapter, atleast I think so. Letmme know what you think. R&R please!!  
  
  
  
The darkness gave way to a gentle fog that caressed his aching body. All around him the air was alive with the sounds of birds crying out and the waves that touched his feet lapping against the shore. His head ached, and his mouth was dry, and salty. His clothes feel from his body in tatters, revealing his rippling muscles and sea soaked skin. A piece of drift wood came to shore near his left hand he looked into the fog to see the faint black outlines of a ship as torn and tattered as the shirt on his well formed back. As he peered into the mist, a figure came towards him out of the water.  
  
"Dwayne," at first the voice was soft, beautiful and drifting like the fog. IErica?/I He thought hazily. But the figure began to immerge from the mist and he saw the faint swaying of hips, long flowing hair, deeply tanned skin and the glint of two emerald eyes. "Dwayne," she repeated, "finally we are alone." The woman cooed, now standing at his feet.  
  
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He cocked an eyebrow at her, propping himself up onto on arm.  
  
"How can you not remember me?" She fell desperately, but sensuously to her knees, her bright lips pleading with Dwayne. "I am the innocent native girl you imprisoned on your ship while searching for buried treasure, only to unwittingly become entranced by my mysterious beauty and spirit, loving me in ways you never thought possible."  
  
Dwayne was confused. However, when he tried to open his mouth in protest the woman pressed a finger against his lips. "Quite my love, say no more." She leaned back moving her hands across the bottom of her threadbare top. "Take me now."  
  
"Dear God!!" Dwayne cried out, sitting bolt up in his bed. A feminine scream matched his, startling him as an object arched into the air and landed into his lap.  
  
"I hate it when they do that." The woman's voice rang with a shock.  
  
"Trust me, if you had a dream like mine you'd do that to." The lieutenant panted slightly, pulling his blankets closer. He was frigid.  
  
"I'm sorry? I'd do what?" The woman next to him looked perplexed as she moved to pick up the object that had gone flying. Dwayne glanced at it quickly, noticing it was a book, by an author he'd never heard of. Who was Louis L'Amour?  
  
"You'd wake up screaming if you dreamt a Polynesian woman wanted to make love to you." Without even a quick look around knew he was in the sick bay (?), the entire world around him was white. Excluding the woman who was sitting next to him, who had on a loose indigo sweater and light blue jeans. She stood up and turned toward a table directly in front of Dwayne, but a few feet away.  
  
"Great, another victim of 'don't ask don't tell.'" She slid across the floor; her blonde hair pulled back a swishing against her neck. "Why is it always the cute ones."  
  
"I'm sorry? What did you say?" His jaw dropped open at her candor.  
  
"I said I should get you're temperature." She picked up a small plastic object off of the table she was at and turned around, waving it at him. "You were out there for awhile, and you look absolutely frozen." Striding across the room she thrust the thermometer into his open mouth and clamped it shut with a deft move of her hand. "You're very lucky, you know that? It's not every day a man gets hit by lighting and survives to tell the tale." She smiled innocently, but put a firm hand on Dwayne's chin to stop his jaw from falling open yet again. INot even a pretty little hair singed off of that noggin of yours./I  
  
The lieutenant furrowed his brow. Was he hearing things. He clearly heard her voice, but her mouth hadn't moved. Before he could say a word she chattered on.  
  
"In fact, you owe a coworker of yours a big debt of gratitude. I don't know how they thought to look for you on deck, but they did, and just in the nick of time. Actually, it's not that rare, my cousin's brother's nephew once was struck by lightning, you know, and he was out for days. Well, he wasn't really the brightest boy to begin with and the bolt sure didn't help that much. You see."  
  
Dwayne knew he was the only one in the room by the lack of other sound. That meant he had no chance of salvation from the chatter. Then again, it wasn't like not paying attention was a choice. She still had her hand firmly on his chin, holding the thermometer in place. So, he keep his eyes on her as her mouth continued to bablle. Suddenly, her heard the voice again.  
  
IHe's such a great listener, no glazed over eyes or anything. Defiantly gay. It's really such a pity./I  
  
Before Dwayne had time to be taken aback when the thermometer rang out.  
  
"98.6!" She sang out triumphantly, "you'll just feel a little chilly for awhile. The rest did you some good though."  
  
"Rest?" Instantly Dwayne was worried, "how long did I sleep for?" This time another voice popped in from around the corner.  
  
"Two days," it was Jo's cheery tone. "I'd say you'd needed the beauty sleep, but two days would hardly make a dent in that problem."  
  
"Har har," He mocked her as well as he could, but Jo could sense the worry in his tone.  
  
"Is he free to go doc?" She looked up at the smiling blonde next to Dwayne's bed.  
  
"Certainly," she chirped, "let me go get his things." She turned around and sauntered towards a door a few feet away. II can see why everyone calls her a frigid bitch. /I Dwayne shook his head lightly at the voice in his head.  
  
"Don't worry," Jo thrust her hand into her back pockets. "You didn't miss a thing while you where out. I few minor domestic glitches, by the kid handled them well with out you. Just said the Big Guy was under heavy maintenance and neither of you could be disturbed."  
  
"Good cover Jo," Dwayne smiled weakly, finally feeling the effects of the past days. "And thanks for saving my butt out there."  
  
"No prob. You were clutching you big guy signal. When you were a no-show, we tracked you down. The actual signal turned out to be a false alarm, but you were stone cold out." Jo sat down on the bed next to him. "Had to lug your heavy arse all the way here." IAnd what a nice arse it is./I A voice inside his head cooed. Dwayne closed his eyes tightly and shook his head with a palm against his forehead.  
  
"Man, I think that blast did something to me, I'm hearing voices."  
  
"You didn't need to get zapped with a bazillion volts to prove you're a whacko Dwayne," Jo just laughed. "I could have told you that already."  
  
"Thanks Jo," Dwayne moved to get out of his bed, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Thank you so much." 


	3. Something in the Cards...

Thanks to BH for reviewing what I've written, it was exciting to actually see some action with my stories for once (not that they've been posted for long, but hey, I'm a narcissist.) As to your question, I set out one day to write *a* romance. I have not been able to achieve that yet as all of my stories tend to drift into other realms. *Shrug* maybe, someday, fates willing it'll happen a tear rolls down her cheek* Anywho, it's good to see some peeps besides those I know from the board are reading BG&R! As always, I don't own 'em, though I wouldn't mind havin' 'em to myself. R&R for the love of Mike!!! R&R!!!!!  
  
Keep on keeping on,  
  
Verve  
  
Now back to you're regularly scheduled programming.  
  
  
  
***  
  
The evening wore on without any events. Everyone had found a chair to lay back into, and let boredom mold them into its form. Garth sat back with his feet up on the table, magazine in hand. Mack was cat napping over schematics, a light puddle of saliva forming over several sketchy exhaust valves. Jo had long since abandoned her activities in favor of poking Mack in the flab on his neck, disturbing his sleep enough that he grumbled and hit himself lightly where the offending poke had been. Dwayne's head was clearer now; the voices in his head had seemed to disappear. But he was no less bored than the others, chuckling along with Jo as Mack continued to hit at himself sleepily.  
  
However, Jo decided that the neck poking wasn't enough and took a nearby stack of cards in hand. Mack settled in a few seconds, and the lieutenant eyed the situation with a crooked smile.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, hello and welcome to the first annual IBuild a Card Deck House on Top of the Sleeping Guy's Head,/I extravaganza!" She had learned long ago that adding personal commentary to any ordinary situation made it a little less tedious, a lot less boring and a heck of a lot more amusing for the spectators; which at this moment applied to merely Dwayne. Garth gave none of the events around him a moment of consideration, nose firmly in the pages of his digest.  
  
"Jo, I wouldn't if I were you." Dwayne interjected with a worried grimace. "You know he's not the cheeriest guy after he wakes up."  
  
"Dwayne," she chided. "Relax. He's a grump no matter what time of day it is. Waking up has nothing to do with it." With a mischievous sort of focus she turned back to her subject and continued her annotations. "The tension here is high at our continued live coverage of this spectacular event, the crowd has hushed as our contender places the first card upon the potentially cranky cranium." Dwayne couldn't help but grin at her commentary and focus. "Anything can happen folks as the next two cards are leaned against each other. That's right! It seems she's adopting the difficult task of building a support for several layers! This is astounding, I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"Glad to say the same." Dwayne added dryly. The stacking went on for minutes, some moments actually becoming tense as the palace on Mack's hat tottered precariously. But it settled each time and soon the deck in Jo's hand was nothing compared to the number actually surrounding Mack.  
  
"Hey guys! Check this out!" Garth let the feet of his chair fall with a loud bang to the floor, instantly waking Mack up with a start. The cards began to tumble around Mack, who swatted them away; shrieking something about enemy fire. He beat at the cards in the air as Jo, Dwayne and eventually Garth, laughed until tears came to their eyes.  
  
Mack was not amused.  
  
"You bunch of hyenas, think you're so funny." The older man finally caught one of the fluttering cards in his hand. He threw the card to the table sharply and slumped into his chair, pouting. "A man can't even get a decent amount of sleep around here."  
  
"Sorry Mack; couldn't resist." Jo was still gasping through her tears, face streaked and red. "Your just so cute when you sleep." Her laughter came harder at her own joke, that really wasn't even that funny. However, Dwayne settled a bit more quickly and did his best to draw the attention from the red faced Mack, whose ego looked very hurt.  
  
"Garth, you said something?" All eyes were on the tall black man.  
  
"Yeah actually," He was still chuckling when he held up the tabloid in his hand. "I was reading this, and ran across this article. Thought of you actually Dwayne, given your current accident." He held up the page and under the small letter that read 'national enquirer' huge print shouted out 'Man Gains Psychic Powers After Lighting Storm.'  
  
Mack ripped the page away from Garth and studied it carefully.  
  
"Bull." He shot with a low growl, thrusting a stubby finger at the tabloid's name. "Real credible too."  
  
"Hey," it was Garth's turn to look hurt, "it's possible. Anything is possible." Mack looked at him flatly  
  
"Right, and I'm Elvis."  
  
"Sorry, Mack" Jo had finally settled down, but still spluttered an occasional giggle. "That would require talent, and charm. Two things you have in short supply." Mack just stared at her flatly, and then turned to Dwayne.  
  
"Here, I'll prove it. Read my mind." Mack leaned very close to Dwayne, his face floating inches from the lieutenant's. "Give me a number one through a hundred. Us your psychic powers." His tone was scornful but teasing. Dwayne backed away from his nearness, but still tried to focus on some sort of number in the faint hope of supporting Garth. He winced.  
  
"Sorry Mack- guys- I'm not getting anything." And then he heard it again.  
  
I Not that there's anything up there to get in the first place. /I  
  
"Jo, I think Mack's had enough of your jokes for one day." Dwayne looked at her sharply. Three sets of eyes stared back at him.  
  
"Man, settled down, I didn't say anything. Did I Mack?" She batted Mack's shoulder for backing.  
  
"The girl didn't speak a word. Her big yap was zipped for once." Mack scratched his head under his cap.  
  
I I swear to god if he calls me a girl again I'll strip his parts./I  
  
This time Dwayne was looking squarely at Jo when he heard the voice.  
  
"No one heard that?" He scanned the two others, who shook their heads to the negative. He rested his gaze on Garth. "What all did that article say?"  
  
"Not much," he shrugged. "Just psycho-mumbo jumbo mostly. I think the jist of it is that the electricity does something to your normal brain waves, making you understand the thoughts of others. But that couldn't of happened to you," he pointed out. "You can't even tell what number Mack is thinking."  
  
"No, no I can't," He turned to Jo meeting her eye to eye. "But I've got a strange hunch." She looked as uneasy as he felt. He stomached churned with a mix of instincts telling him something serious was wrong, and the acidic fear that something serious was wrong.  
  
"You're fighter instincts are creep me out. This is all bogus stuff." Jo Shrunk into herself, not liking the sudden attention she was getting. "Dwayne, Iwhy/I are you looking at me like that?"  
  
"Jo, pick a number between one and a thousand." He closed his eyes for a moment, but the calm on his face quickly disappeared as his lids flickered open. "711.712.Jo you need to make up you mind."  
  
"Holy." He eyes went wide. "What's going on here?"  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine." Dwayne shook his head that had begun to throb again. 


End file.
